


Familiar Comforts

by crackinthecup



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Celebrimbor has unrequited feelings for Finrod, Incest, M/M, Nargothrond, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, the Nargothrond clusterfuck strikes again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackinthecup/pseuds/crackinthecup
Summary: Celebrimbor has been thinking too much: about his father, about Finrod, about how much time they’ve been spending together. Celegorm is there for him.In other words: the Nargothrond debacle becomes even more muddled.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Celegorm | Turcafinwë, Celegorm | Turcafinwë/Curufin | Curufinwë, Curufin | Curufinwë/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	Familiar Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-write of a fic first posted a few years ago that was sparked off by chatting to the lovely @imindhowwelayinjune / LiveOakWithMoss.

Celebrimbor stood motionless on the balcony above one of Nargothrond’s many galleries. He had intended to walk past, continue on his way to the forges as he had so many times before, but his legs had grown rigid at the familiarity of the voices echoing from below.

“Do you truly have no restraint?” Celebrimbor did not need to look to be able to picture his father, lips pressed to Finrod’s ear, hand twisting beneath his robes.

Finrod hummed in consideration. “Ah, but cousin, _you_ are the one taking _me_ here, where anyone could see.”

Celebrimbor's lips thinned. He clasped his hands before him in a bloodless grip, rubbing his thumb over one of the many rings on his fingers in a nervous tic.

“You can come closer. They never notice anything when they’re fucking.” Celebrimbor hadn’t noticed anything either: he started violently and twisted his head in the direction of the voice, finding himself staring wide-eyed at his uncle.

Celegorm had sidled up to the balustrade and was now leaning his forearms against it. And as he turned his head to address his nephew, Celebrimbor could plainly see how bright his eyes were, too bright, as though he were contemplating the spilled entrails of a beast.

“Well, go on,'' Celegorm said with a tilt of the head towards the gallery. ''You want to watch, don’t you?”

Celebrimbor twisted the ring on his finger so aggressively that it nearly slipped off. “I should be on my way,” he said, avoiding Celegorm’s question. “There is work to be done in the forges.”

A crooked smirk plucked at the corners of Celegorm’s mouth, a flash of white teeth in the shadows. “You’ve been thinking about Findaráto, haven’t you?”

Celebrimbor’s cheeks reddened. “I… I’m not sure what you mean.”

Celegorm’s smirk grew wider. “Here’s a life lesson, Tyelpë: if you want your lies to be convincing, make sure you’re not lying to yourself first.”

Celebrimbor dropped his eyes to the floor. Celegorm’s unwavering gaze seemed to bore straight through him, his words dredging up hot shame from deep within his stomach. He had been thinking about Finrod, that much was true: in the darkness of his room when the nights felt too long and too lonely. But Finrod did not feel the same way about him. He always made time for Celebrimbor, always with a kind word and a smile, but he was distant, lost in some impenetrable thoughts of his own. It was much better to pretend. Feelings that were buried deep enough did not have the power to hurt him. He had learned that much from his father.

Celegorm let out a soft breath. “Come, Tyelpë, this isn’t worth sulking over.”

It was the lack of accusation in his tone that drew Celebrimbor out of his contemplation of the floor. He stepped up to the balustrade beside Celegorm. Unable to prevent his gaze from being drawn downwards, he took in the robes bunched up around Finrod’s waist, his father’s rough thrusts as Finrod braced his forearms against the wall. Something hot and immense seemed to swell in his chest at the sight, making it difficult to breathe.

He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to turn to his uncle. “Does my father know?”

“Of course.”

Celebrimbor groaned, planting his elbows on the railing and dropping his head into his hands. Celegorm snorted and reached out to pat him on the back; the hand stayed.

“Don’t worry, he’s too preoccupied with Findaráto to dwell much on it.” And then, as if forgetting Celebrimbor was still listening, he muttered under his breath: “By the bloody Valar, what is it about Findaráto that has the lot of you drooling?”

To that Celebrimbor had no answer. A loud moan rang out from below, and in unison Celebrimbor and Celegorm glanced downwards again. Finrod was resting his forehead against the wall, breathing hard, as Curufin leaned in to sink his teeth into the delicate skin at the juncture of his neck and jaw.

Celegorm growled low in his throat when Finrod twisted round to press his lips against Curufin’s own in a rough kiss.

“Stay if you will,” he said to Celebrimbor as he straightened. “I’ve seen enough.”

With a shaky sigh, his heart lodged in his throat, Celebrimbor moved to follow his uncle.

X X

It was late enough to be practically early when Celebrimbor left the forges in search of his father. But it was Celegorm’s voice that bade him enter when he knocked on the door to his and Curufin’s quarters, and it was Celegorm who slouched alone in an armchair by the dying fire.

“Will Atar be back anytime soon?”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Celegorm scoffed. “He’s not been back here at all tonight. Probably busy staining Findaráto’s sheets.”

Celebrimbor sighed, blinking the stinging weariness out of his eyes. Celegorm straightened in his armchair, and for the first time he truly looked at his nephew.

“You’ve been up all night.”

It wasn’t a question. Celebrimbor answered anyway. “Yes, in the forge. I’m working on a necklace, which is why I came here, actually. I’ve run out of amethyst and I wanted to ask Atar if he had any more of it stashed somewhere.”

Celegorm shook his head. “You’re working yourself to exhaustion.”

“I am not,” Celebrimbor protested automatically. “I just wanted to finish –”

“Come, Tyelpë,” Celegorm cut him off, though not unkindly. He hauled himself out of the armchair and strode over to where Celebrimbor was standing. With a hand pressed to his lower back, Celegorm steered him towards the bed and Celebrimbor followed where he was led. “You can spend whatever’s left of the night here. Your father clearly won’t be.”

Celebrimbor sat down on the edge of the mattress, muttering a quick word of thanks to his uncle as he toed off his boots. Celegorm leaned in to reach around to his back and unknot the heavy work apron he was still wearing, close enough that Celebrimbor could smell the wine on his breath and feel the warmth of him radiating through the fleeting touch of their skin.

Celebrimbor shivered as Celegorm withdrew and dropped the apron to the floor. Tiredness dragged at his bones and he stifled a yawn as he undid the coil of string holding his hair back in a ponytail. He caught Celegorm’s eye as he shook his hair out over his shoulders. There was something in Celegorm’s face that he didn’t quite recognise, something soft yet hungry.

“You seldom braid your hair these days,” Celegorm murmured, reaching out to slip his fingers around the back of his skull. It was strange intimacy even for his uncle, but not at all unpleasant.

“Ammë used to braid it, and then Atar, but he’s been too busy lately.”

Celegorm pursed his lips in disapproval, but did not say anything. He dragged his fingers down to curl over the side of Celebrimbor’s neck, calloused and warm, and the heaviness that had been lodged in Celebrimbor’s chest since earlier that day finally dispersed.

In truth, Celebrimbor did not know who started the kiss. It might have been him, lips tentatively brushing against Celegorm’s own as he leaned into his touch, or it might have been Celegorm who drew him close with a growl low in his throat. Their lips met and parted and met again, tongues sliding together, and at some point Celebrimbor’s hands must have come up to cling to Celegorm’s tunic, for they were definitely there now toying with the lacings across his sternum.

Celegorm broke their kiss, lips stretching into a reckless grin as he tugged his tunic over his head. Then he paused. One warm hand lightly pressed against Celebrimbor’s chest as their eyes met. Only the beat of their hearts marked the passing of several long seconds. Eventually Celebrimbor nodded. He wondered what his father would think as Celegorm pushed him back to sprawl on the bed and crawled over him, as their lips met again with as much tenderness as the sting of teeth.

But then he told himself he did not care what his father would think. He rocked his hips against his uncle, grinding his hardening cock against Celegorm’s own, eyes fluttering shut with the pleasure of it.

Celegorm smiled against his lips. “That’s it,” he murmured, dipping his head to trail biting kisses down his throat. “We don’t need them.”

“No,” Celebrimbor agreed, giving Celegorm a hand as he tugged off his tunic and his breeches too.

He arched into Celegorm’s hands as they brushed over his hips, as they pushed his thighs open wide. Celegorm grinned at him, teeth too white and too sharp, looking at him in a way that no one ever had before, as though the clockwork biology of his body, this raw, intimate part of him, delighted him. Celebrimbor felt the heat rise in his cheeks, but there was none of the awkward embarrassment of being with a new lover. Perhaps it was his tiredness dulling his thoughts, or his familiarity with his uncle born of centuries of spending time together. Either way, he tossed his head back with careless abandon as Celegorm bent down between his spread legs and took him deep into his mouth.

Celegorm hummed around his cock, setting a firm rhythm. Celebrimbor reached downwards to thread his fingers through Celegorm’s hair, half-opening his eyes to watch. Celegorm’s hair was a different shade of blond to Finrod’s, but in the dim light it was easy enough to pretend.

All too soon Celegorm pulled away. Celebrimbor found that he didn’t quite mind opening his eyes fully and setting aside his fantasies of Finrod, not when Celegorm sucked two fingers into his mouth and slid them between his legs.

“Have you done this before?”

Celebrimbor looked vaguely offended. Celegorm laughed in genuine amusement for the first time in what seemed like weeks. “Didn’t mean to imply you wouldn’t be able to get laid, Tyelpë. I was merely wondering if I should be gentle with you.”

But his fingers as they nudged past the tight right of muscle belied his words, twisting with care, curling just so.

“I - ah - I haven’t done this in a while,” Celebrimbor admitted, biting his lip to stifle a cry when Celegorm found his prostate.

Celegorm flicked his eyes up to meet Celebrimbor’s own, and the naked hunger there sent a shiver down Celebrimbor’s spine.

“Don’t feel like you have to be quiet with me.”

“What if someone hears?”

Celegorm shrugged, pushing his fingers inside of him that little bit more forcefully, setting pleasure spilling like liquid flame through Celebrimbor’s stomach. “We don’t answer to anyone here.”

There was a hardness to Celegorm’s words, a cruelty that sharpened his smile, and Celebrimbor frowned slightly. Nargothrond may not have felt like home, but there was no reason to treat Finrod and his people harshly. Celebrimbor’s heart misgave him, and with a cold pang of foreboding he thought it likely that ill would come of it in the end.

But now was neither the time nor place to argue about this with his uncle. There was a part of Celebrimbor that simply wanted to step away from this tangle of desires and manipulations and cruelties. And as Celegorm withdrew his fingers from him and told him to turn around, he forced himself to focus fully on the feel of Celegorm positioning himself behind him, on the rigid fullness of his cock as it rested heavily against the curve of his arse.

Celegorm reached over him to grab a vial of oil from the bedside drawer. It was plain that it had been used a fair few times before.

Celebrimbor let out a disbelieving snort. “I didn’t think there was anyone here who _interested_ you, uncle.”

“There isn’t.” Celegorm tore the cork off with his teeth and deftly slicked himself up. “The vial is Curvo’s,” he added when Celebrimbor made a questioning noise. It was true – he’d sooner have Curufin fucking him with nothing but spit easing the way – and besides, Celebrimbor didn’t need to know anything else.

“Oh,” Celebrimbor breathed, and unbidden, thoughts of his father soured his mood. Not for the first time he wondered if he was making his own life needlessly difficult by shunning the bitter pride most of his relatives clung to. It seemed to serve his father well enough when it came to Finrod.

But Celegorm didn’t let those thoughts take hold. He guided himself inside of Celebrimbor, inch by careful inch, and the stretch left Celebrimbor gasping, mind suddenly, blissfully blank.

“Don’t worry about it, Tyelpë,” Celegorm said in a murmur, sliding deeper into him and rocking him against the mattress, guessing at his thoughts with his usual uncanny accuracy. “You’re not like your father and that’s not a bad thing.”

Celebrimbor moaned into the pillows, and a second later remembered his uncle’s words and turned his head to the side so the noises he was making wouldn’t be muffled. “How am I different?”

Celegorm huffed out a breath of laughter. “Now’s hardly the right time for this, Tyelpë.”

“Uncle – ah – please, I want to know –” Celebrimbor’s words trailed off, his hands fisting into the sheets as Celegorm set a breathless pace between his thighs.

“Not now,” Celegorm told him firmly, punctuating his words with a hard thrust. Celebrimbor cried out, grinding his hips back against his uncle, and Celegorm couldn’t hold out anymore.

He spilled with a loud curse, burying himself to the hilt inside of Celebrimbor, in unconscious reflex digging his fingers into his hips until his nails left bloody little furrows across his skin. Then there was silence, broken only by their laboured breaths and the quiet crackle of the dying fire.

Celegorm leaned forward to brush Celebrimbor’s hair over his shoulder and pressed his lips to the nape of his neck in a lingering kiss. Celebrimbor shivered beneath him, hips squirming, cock still hard and heavy between his legs.

“Allow me,” Celegorm smiled, easing out of Celebrimbor and snaking a hand around to his front. His fingers felt warm and wonderful as they twisted over his cock, and Celebrimbor barely had time to conjure up images of Finrod in his mind before he was coming in Celegorm’s hand.

Celegorm let out a satisfied sigh, moving away to wipe his hand on a stray cloth. Celebrimbor closed his eyes, pressing his cheek to the pillow and straightening his legs till he was lying on his belly. The tiredness he had tried so hard to ignore suddenly crashed through him. He barely managed to shift slightly to make room for his uncle. Celegorm drew him against his side, and Celebrimbor went willingly, quiet and pliant in the afterglow of his orgasm.

Celegorm started to card his fingers through his hair. “I could braid it for you, you know.”

“That would be nice,” Celebrimbor mumbled sleepily.

Celegorm pulled him that little bit closer. Celebrimbor was asleep within moments, but Celegorm stayed awake, cradling Celebrimbor to his chest and waiting for the slow coming of the dawn.


End file.
